


The Joker thinks he's funny but Batman is fucking hysterical

by Cutesonas



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCeased (DC Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bisexual Harleen Quinzel, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dark Bruce Wayne, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, Sad Harleen Quinzel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutesonas/pseuds/Cutesonas
Summary: Bruce kills the Joker and has to live with that action forever.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Do it you won't.

The Joker cackled, grinning wildly at the famed Batman. 

“How long has it been since we have seen each other, Batsy?” he beamed, arms crossed and shoulder rested on the nearby wall. “It’s been what, three months since the little party in the middle east we had?”

Batman didn’t say a word. He simply stood there, clutching a pipe of iron. A bit odd, but the Joker was convinced that the man was too much of a good guy to actually pull the trigger.

“What, are you still mad after what I did to your precious boy blunder?”

The bat still remained silent. Holding his pistol with two hands now, aimed staight at his lifelong opponent.

This of course, made the Joker laugh. 

“Come on Bats, who are you convincing me?” he giggled. Walking even closer to the gun. “I bet it’s not even loaded.”

The silence was killing the Joker. “You don’t even know how to shoot a gun, Batman. Come on!”

He got even closer. 

“We all know at the end of the day, you slowly put the gun down and we’ll play this game like normal.” the joker sniderly remarked. “And in a couple of months you’ll get another Robin! So stop th-”

  
  


Bang.

  
  


The bullet entered the Joker’s chest, blood beginning to pool out. He gags, before falling to the ground.

Another bullet rings out of the gun, into the Jokers head.

And from there, Alfred forwards the footage to news outlets. 

Bruce comes back to the empty mansion, not saying a word.

The evil is defeated.


	2. Do I want kids?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you going to do after that? I mean, let’s say you kill Batman, and get away with it. The justice league will never let you rest.”  
> She laughed. “You think I care about some sleazy league? The only thing I cared about was my puddin’...” she sighed.

Ivy saw the footage. I mean, how could she have not? As soon as it hit the news, the whole world shat itself. Especially the villian world. They wouldn’t stop dming her the video AS she was watching it! It was only two minutes long yet it felt like an eternity. Replaying when the bat pulled the trigger, as her eyes still not wanting to believe what he did.

It felt like a dream. A scary yet, freeing dream.

She’ll be honest, she never liked the asshole, ever since she got a first glance of that clowns ugly fucking smile she knew he was a monster and he kept proving her right. With all the deaths he caused, with all the times his little harlequin came to her for a shoulder to cry on, when he disabled the poor Barbara girl and finally when he killed Robin. 

She was happy he was dead, who wouldn’t be?

But what happens now?

The bats just broke his number one rule.

And left poor Harley a widow.

God, Harley. She’s bound to be a wreck, isn’t she? 

  
  


And ivy was right. As hours later she came banging at her door, her eyes red and puffy, her lip quivering and chin damp with her nonstop tears. Her hyenas behind her, craving blood as much as she did. Gripping her large mallet like it was the only thing keeping her together. Going on a whole tangent on how she was going to kill Batman, kill him dead, kill him again and again and again. Kill him with poison, weapons, drown him, the whole shebang. Barely listening to her friend as she continued on her grief ridden rage. 

“And here I thought, me and the bats were friends!” She sobbed. “But turns out he’s just like the rest of those heroes!”

Pam hummed, sipping her tea as her eyes followed the clown girl back and forth around the room.

“But you know, harles.” Ivy said gently. “What are you going to do after that? I mean, let’s say you kill Batman, and get away with it. The justice league will never let you rest.”

She laughed. “You think I care about some sleazy league? The only thing I cared about was my puddin’...” she sighed. 

“So what, that’s it? You kill Batman and you die?”

“At least I’d be with my puddin’ then~!”

  
  


Ivy sighed, rubbing her temples. On one hand she can let the chick die. That is, if she’s even able to beat Batman and successfully kill him. Along with letting her kill the other Robin. Which of course, didn’t sit well with her considering they were the only two heroes she actually somewhat respected. (I mean, Robin was always so fun to joke with, he wa as little odd, sure, but he made her laugh) or she could tell her that her man is trash just like many men and convince her to move on. Telling her that he did her a damn favor

  
  


She tried to outweigh the pros and cons of both sides. Which she had to admit, was a bit hard. As one was easy for her to do, and another would only work if she played her cards right. 

So she chose neither. A peaceful route let her put off killing the bats for another day. Drink tea, calm down, sleep, get your things in order, find another place to live, start fresh. 

And it seemed like it worked. Which surprised her. But she wasn’t going to push her luck as she handed Harley spare clothes and a blanket so she could sleep on her couch for now. Harley thanked her for being patient and offering her a place to stay, which Ivy said she owed her now, which Harley sleepily agreed to as she nodded off. 

  
  


This could work. Pam thought, tucking herself in for bed. She and Harley could live together, she could help her build herself up again, they could rob banks together. It felt like a dream. And possibly because it was.

  
  


As waking up the next morning ivy was alone, the blankets folded semi neatly and placed upon her coffee table with a note. She was still going to kill Batman. God fucking dammit Harley. 

The thought of another Robin dying by a clown made her shiver, and the thought of Robin being orphaned made her heart pounce, immediately taking the bike she stole the other day for a drive to wherever the hell she could be. Hoping to god she wasn’t too late, and if she was, she could at least save the boy and raise him as his own. Which wouldn’t be easy but who gives a shit?

  
  


She searched clubs, warehouses, coasts, docks, ships, restaurants, banks, fucking convince stores for the broad. It was all becoming dizzying to her, unable to be sure if she saw her or just another blonde girl. It was maddening, until finally it was night. Thinking about how they’re both dead by now. About how she couldn’t even save the other Robin. About how all this murder was pointless and fucking stupid in the end. 

Until she heard the first Robin's voice crying for help. Crying for someone to help him. Followed by Harley yelling at him to stay quiet in between her sobs. 

  
  


She never ran so fast in her life than right then and there calling upon all plants near her to build a sort of green piece of armor. Also using it to climb up the building. The sight from the roof was worse than she could have imagined. A broken Harley shakily gripping a pistol, pointed at Robin, while his father laid in his own pool of blood. Breathing slowly. 

Without another moment to waste, she let her plants grab the clown by her torso, and forced the gun out of her hand, meanwhile she walked toward Robin, sobbing uncontrollably. 

  
  


She put her hands up as the boy was obviously frightened. 

“I’m not there to finish him off. I’m here to help.” She gently reassured. “If you’d let me.”

The boy wiped the snot from his nose. Nodding as a go ahead for her. 

She kneeled next to his father, who looked up at her with tired white eyes. 

“Just leave me here, ivy.” He coughed. “Take Robin, get him out of here.”

She shook her head, “You can still make this right for him.”

He laughed at that. 

“Ivy, I killed a man.”

“Who deserved it.”

“Ivy please, just take him, I don’t have much time left.”

She looked at the boy, who looked so small, lost and helpless. Knowing that if she left him to die without at least trying to get him to a hospital, then the damage to him would be unrepremandable. Not to mention she still had to figure out what to do with Harley. 

  
  


She had no time to weigh the pros and cons. 

So she took them both, leaving Harley on the roof, throwing the pistol off the roof. Robin told her the directions of a place they could take his father for treatment. By the time they got there he was hanging onto life on a very, very, very thin thread. The grey haired woman was not even sure herself if he was going to make it. 

Leaving her alone with the fifteen year old Robin in the waiting room. The long night and tense silence killing her. 

“So.” She started, staring at the boy's messy black hair. “What the hell happened? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Boy wonder snapped.

“Right, my bad.” She chuckled apprehensively. “I just, I don’t know, I’m sorry, is all.”

He scoffed at her, hugging his legs. “Since when did you care?”

“Ouch.” She said. “But that’s fair, I know we haven’t had the-“

“You hypnotized me many times with your plants.” He hissed.

“Right. Sorry about that.”

“Are you?”

  
  


Ivy figured it was best not to talk to the kid for any longer until the results came in of the bats' health. 

  
  


Which came around three in the morning. 

  
  


Coma. 

  
  


She said he’ll most likely be fine in a couple of weeks. Ivy then asked if they could speak in private.

  
  


“So, what happens to the kid? Does he have any other relatives?”

The nurse nodded. “I appreciate the concern Miss ivy but the boy is fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, he has other relatives. He’ll be okay.”

Pam was unconvinced but she took her word.

  
  


“Do you need a ride, Robin?”

“Yes, but not from you.”

Ah. Right. She forgot he hates her. “...alright.”

And she drove off. Back home. Lying in her bed, trying to sleep despite everything that happened in the past twenty four hours. Some things she still couldn’t comprehend. Cringing at how she left Harley on the roof, alone, while emotionally unstable. Christ, what the hell was she thinking? That was a terrible idea, that was stupid, ivy. If she’s dead now, that’s on you. 

  
  


And then she thought about the kid. Robin. That poor fucking kid. She should go check on him. Not right now of course, but stil. The kid is definitely not okay, emotionally. 

  
  


Her head began to hurt. 

  
  


Come on ivy, go to sleep, you deserve it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid way I legit couldn’t stop thinking of ivy raising dick Grayson and now I’m like, losing it. Anyways I hope u enjoyed!


	3. Stressful bike rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce looked at his only son in shock. 
> 
> “What did you just say?”
> 
> “Nothing, nevermind.”
> 
> “No, what did you say, Dick?”
> 
> “Nothing! Leave me alone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: the r slur, ableism

After Jason’s funeral. They went home, the manor painfully silent. The only sound being the heavy breaths of Alfred while he quietly sobbed preparing dinner, and the shifting of clothing as his father undid his coat. And hung it on the rack. Later then calling Dick up to his room. His father was sitting on the edge of his bed, in the dark, the curtains drawn in. He tapped the space beside him for Dick to join him on the bed. His eyes were heavy and tired. 

Not angry, but pained.

Mournful.

As they all were.

  
  


His father then exhaled. “Listen Dick, I love you. You know that, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Of course I do…”

“Okay good, because I’m doing this because I love you, Dick.”

“Wait,” Dicks eyes widened. “Do what? What are you doing?”

“I’m enrolling you into Gotham academy.”

The boy scoffed. “But Dad, how am I going to do school and be on the teen-“

“You won’t be.” Bruce stated abruptly. “You won’t be on the Teen Titans, you won’t be Robin. You will just be...normal. You’ll just be Dick Grayson.” 

“But sad that isn’t your choice to make.” Dick begged. “I mean I know you’re upset about what happened to Jason, we all are but-“

“I can’t let you fall to the same fate, Dick.” His father shakily admitted, fighting back the tears. “You and Alfred are all I have left.” 

The little bird looked at his father, eye brows created, his lips turning into a frown. He could not find it within himself to argue with him. So he just hugged him, agreeing to his father's wishes. 

  
  


He started next Thursday. As a freshman. His uniform felt so restricting on his body, his backpack full of books like a sort of anchor. So far being normal was uncomfortable. But that wasn’t even the end of it, as he later then had to introduce himself to his classmates. Who all stared at him with large, innocent eyes. Making his stomach twist and turn as he took his seat. The school was large and grey and cold, the hours long and torturing. The homework was meaningless and time consuming. The kids were shallow and fake, it drove Dick mad. 

But every now and then he would see his father burning his suits, his bat-o-rangs, his grappling hooks and whatever else. Yet he never touched his stuff nor Jason’s. It got to a point where the only things left in the batcave were just their boxes of stuff, collecting dust. Along with one single suit that his father still hasn’t thrown out yet. Possibly the one he wore that day with Jason. He wasn’t sure. Dick figured he was keeping it for sentimental sakes, or to torture himself, or both. His dad was that type of guy. He knew him well enough to know why he was even burning all this stuff in the first place. He was quitting. Because of what the joker did. Because of who he lost. And who was Dick to tell his Dad to stop? He couldn’t. So he just played along. Texting his teen Titans that he’s through, not saying why, ignoring their begs and calls to come back, drowning himself in school in hopes that one day, his crime kicking days will feel like a mere dream to him. Hoping that one day he’ll just see Bruce as another eccentric billionaire, and Alfred as just another butler. 

  
  


Which surprisingly happened soon, but not in the way he wanted. It started small, as the workload increased Dick was soon realizing he couldn’t keep up with his peers, constantly forgetting assignments, quizzes, tests, essays, everything. Even if he wrote it down, even if he set a reminder on his phone, told Alfred to remind him, it still wasn’t enough. He had easily grown a reputation for not being reliable. Which he tried to fix, which only made his lab partners and teachers even more distrusting of him. Not only that, but he didn’t understand how his classmates worked, how they talked, what they thought was funny and what they didn’t. And while he tried just being himself, as per his father's advice they didn’t seem to be too pleased by that either. He could never sit still, he always talked to fast or too loud, and his attention was never ever kept on what he was supposed to do. 

  
  


Later in the middle of the school year one of his teachers asked him straight out in class if he was retarded when he couldn’t answer his question, asking for him to repeat a couple of times due to his brain not being able to pick up what he said. Although he heard the r word loud and clear, along with the laughter of his classmates. It made his cheeks burn red and eyes watery. 

So his teacher asked again. 

“Mister Grayson, are you retarded?”

Dick didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He gripped at his school uniform, biting his lip in attempts not to cry. 

“N-no. I’m not.”

“Well obviously you must be.” The teacher mocked. “Or you wouldn’t have an e in my class!”

The classroom roared with laughter, which all became white noise.

  
  


The rest of the day, no, the rest of the week, no, the rest of the month and months after his classmates would not live it down. And somewhere along the line the rumors began. Saying all kinds of nasty things on how he was big on the head as a child, on how he was adopted due to being retarded at birth. On how he was homeschooled primarily for that reason. On how these girls swore they saw him retreading the same page for five minutes. So what the hell does the son of Batman do at all of this? 

  
  


Fight of course. Winning each fight of course, but still being sent to the principal's office nonetheless. This of course, prompted the boy to be grounded. Followed by screaming matches on how he didn’t care, considering he already took Batman and Robin from him. 

It wasn't until around the fifth fight that something about this routine changed. A car ride. A silent, tense one at that. With Bruce and Dick in the back. Sitting as far apart from each other as possible. Alfred looked back at the both of them, sighing. Having a piece of information that would make this moment even worse, which he didn’t think was possible. 

“Yesterday I got a call from the school that Master Dick is failing almost all his classes.”

Bruce looked at his son with absolute rage. “What.”

“They said he may be held back if he doesn’t shape up soon.”

And so, chaos ensued. 

  
  


Until Dick hit his breaking point, filled with rage he has been keeping hidden away from his father for too long. “Well what do you expect from me, dad? I’m a fucking retard, I can’t do five page essays!”

Bruce looked at his only son in shock. 

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, nevermind.”

“No, what did you say, Dick?”

“Nothing! Leave me alone!”

“Who called you that?”

“Oh my god I said leave me alone!”

  
  


About two weeks later, Alfred once again drove the two to a center for testing. Both keeping tight lips on what exactly it was for. Until finally he was called into a room with a woman with a gentle smile and a few grey hairs here and there. The room was empty and cold. With only a table, a book and other various objects. Along with a pen and notepad for the woman. She told her they were going to play a few games, which pissed Dick off. He was fifteen, not ten. Whatever his dad had in mind, it wasn’t going to work. So he did everything she asked as fast as he could, which proved difficult, but he did it nonetheless so take that dad! 

  
  


Meanwhile the woman hummed, writing every little thing he did down. That also pissed him off. Made him feel like a lab rat instead of a lab student. And then it finally clicked. “You think I’m a retard, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.” She answered bluntly. 

“Then what are you writing down?”

“Nothing.”

“I already know I’m a retard, so you can stop.”

“You aren’t a retard, Dick.” She gently reassured, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re just...wired differently. That’s all.”

Dick scoffed at that. “Yeah alright.”

  
  


And then a month later, a large organ envelope came in for the Wayne’s. About Dicks test results. Dick took snapshots while Bruce and Alfred weren’t looking, then ran into his room to read it myself. Which deemed itself difficult due to the large amount of text becoming more of a paragraph of gibberish to anything else. He was hardly done until Bruce came into the room, with the envelope himself.

Attention deficit / hyperactivity disorder. 

That’s what he had. Which of course, sounded more fitting than to be labeled a retard for the rest of his life. Still though, he was unsure how this was going to fix everything. But his father reassured he would help with that. In any way he can. He promised. 

And he did. 

Prescribing him the meds for him, getting him a tutor, a nice boy named Tim from down the street, a natural born prodigy and a behavioral therapist to teach the boy social cues as proper ways to cope with grief and anger. 

  
  


And everything was fine. For a while. Dick was still getting bullied but he rolled with the punches, focusing on grades, busying himself in the theater plays his school held. These moments felt almost as if him and Bruce were always normal. 

Until one day, the news announced the clown prince of crime was back in Gotham. And as soon as his clubs ended Dick jumped onto his bike, speeding to the manor, ignoring Tim on his way there, calling out for both of them to no avail. As the only thing he heard in response was his own voice echoing around the mansion. 

  
  


“He’s off to kill the joker.” Tim explained, making a jump as he barely noticed the kid enter his house. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“Oh no you’re fine Tim.” He said. The other thing finally clicking in his head. “Wait did you just say my Dad is going to kill the joker?”

Tim nodded.

Dick thought back to the suit in the bat cave. Realizing that it never was for torture or for sentimental sakes. But instead, as a due date. 

  
  


How could he have been so stupid? 

He was about to head into the cage until he remembered once again that Tim was the one who gave him this information. Tim Grayson from down the street. Tim is his tutor. Tim the kid who skipped at least two grades (Dick can never remember) Tim fucking Drake. 

Dick looked back at the cave, weighing out his pros and cons. But ultimately knew that even if he arrived there in time, he wouldn’t stop his father from becoming a murderer because one. He doesn’t exactly know if he wants to stop him. The joker has literally no redeeming qualities and two, he knows Bruce. He knows that after Jason’s death he changed. He knows that he will still kill him, whether his son liked it or not. 

  
  


So fuck it, he spent the rest of the night asking how in the possibly fuck did tiny Tim learn about him, about his father, about the joker, about alfred, ace, Jason and everything. 

Which Tim explained each time, saying it was quite obvious with the way they interacted with each other in and out of school, how his moves were exactly the same to the first Robin, how Robin left the teen Titans only a few days after Dick started attending school. How-

“Okay okay, stop. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Tim said. “Sorry.”

Dick sighed. “Whatever man, that stuff is behind us now. Or at least- I thought it was.” 

Tim stayed silent for a while. Until he finally managed to have the balls to ask.

  
  


“Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss it?”

“Yeah, like, being robin.”

Dick chuckled. “Everyday.” He grinned. “But not as much as I miss my brother. And the way things were before he died.”

Tim frowned. “I’m sorry about Jason.”

“Don’t be.” Dick said, ruffling the kids hair. “It’s not like you were the one who killed him.”

“The joker did, right.” Tim softly muttered. “Do you think Bruce is doing the right thing?”

“No idea.” Dick stated, staring out into space. “But I know that Gotham is going to sleep better now. Which is what really matters I guess.”

And sleep is exactly what they did. Tim leaves early in the morning, leaving dick a note of thanks for letting them stay. And a thanks for not freaking out, and a thanks for literally everything he could think of. That kid is too fucking polite. 

  
  


That day was a Saturday. And so Dick biked back to school of more practice as the play was in a week. Hoping that his father and Alfred will be back before he comes back home. Reciting his lines to drown out the millions and millions of possible ways his father was going to kill the Joker and possibly already did. He didn’t even notice when the school's theater teacher asked if he had a ride home. He smiled and said he’ll bike. Which he did, as slowly as possible. Unsure if he was ready to open the door just yet. 

  
  


In his mind, his father was doing the right thing, right?

  
  


Someone was going too, right?

  
  


The joker has no redeeming qualities, right? 

  
  


He did it for Jason’s sake. For the sake of Gotham. Dick is sure of it. 

  
  


Yet why does he feel such a strong knot in his stomach?

  
  


He misses the old days.

  
  


He misses Jason.

  
  


The sun was setting already. He should get in before Gotham really gets ugly. So inside he went. The manor once again empty. Dick sighed in relief, everything right where he left it. Now was the real test. Entering the bat cave. Alfred looked tired, pale and hanging onto consciousness by a very thin thread. The bat computer revealing why he hasn’t seen his father all day. He should have figured it sooner. Killing the Joker and putting on the news Dick will admit, was a dumb fucking move. Or maybe that was the point. To go out with a bang. To finally burn the suit. Either way, people were bound to find who killed him, and kill him for it. Sure, the asshat had a lot of enemies, but he also had a lot of friends. A lot of friends itching for an excuse to go after him. Along with the police. Not even Gordon could help him now. 

Dick couldn’t watch for much longer, and he was tired of waiting for his father to go home. So he told Alfred to get some rest. That he’ll take it from here. And when he argued, Dick stood his ground, with a look of passion and love in his eye. He’ll be okay, he promises. 

  
  


And he was so close to saving his father. 

  
  


So fucking close.

  
  


And then they heard a gun clicking. Dick forgot about Harley. 

  
  


And well, you know the rest.

  
  


So, once again, like when he was first adopted. It was just Alfred and Dick. 

  
  


Or so he thought. 

  
  


Dick doesn’t like being controlled. Dick appreciates his independence. Dick would rather not be controlled by plants. And furthermore, could do without Ivy at his school, posing as his Dad's girlfriend. But Dick knew Ivy. Dick knew that if he didn’t okay along, things would be worse than they already were. So in the car he went. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to be happy about it.

  
  


“If you’re expecting a thanks from me, you aren’t getting it.” He snapped. “I could have handled Harley.”

Ivy scoffed, tapping her finger on the wheel. “I see you still have your humor, kid.”

“How did you even know my real identity?”

“You aren’t the only people in Gotham who do their homework, Robin.”

Dick crossed his arms, staring up the window, eyebrows scrunched up. “Whatever your planning ivy, I’ll figure it out. You won’t get away with it just because my dad is out.”

Ivy rolled his eyes. “Christ kid, would you give it a rest? Have you ever thought, for a moment, that maybe I don’t have anything planned?”

Boy wonder laughed. “You always do. I’m surprised you haven’t already hypnotized me.”

“Keep catching an attitude and I will, little bird.”

  
  


“...so what do you want, Ivy?”

Ivy looked at the highway with a soft frown. “I...don’t know.” She softly admitted. “It’s weird, last night I...saved you, I saved someone for once. And it felt good.” 

Dicks eyes widened as she turned to him, smiling. “There is something special about you kid. And I want to find out what it is.”

“So...you need to to teach you how to be good.”

Ivy squinted at the horizon before her. “Yeah….” She nodded. “I guess you could say that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, dick has adhd, yes, it’s because I have adhd, lol.

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it was ooc that Bruce didn't turn joker into a funny ass corpse when he saw him next and yeah i know he was the ambassador but like?? comics are art. art is perceived in different ways. i always perceived bruce to be the man who put his family before anything else, seeing as he was so broken over his own family loss. so i wrote this!! hope yall enjoyed


End file.
